


Not Even the Ground

by orphan_account



Category: Pokemon
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-01
Updated: 2012-06-01
Packaged: 2017-11-06 12:13:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/418813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They're trying to save the world, but they might tear themselves apart in the process. In which a tiger, a dragon, and a phoenix try to repair a broken Goldenrod City against all odds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Even the Ground

**Author's Note:**

> Written for PokePrompts on dreamwidth. I had twenty minutes each day to write to a song on the radio. The result is a somewhat fast-paced but very sad AU. I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.

_"I had a vision I could turn you right_  
a stupid mission and a lethal fight  
I should have seen it when my hope was new  
my heart is black and my body is blue"

_"My Favorite Game", The Cardigans_

She's unassuming. She walks the streets in a denim skirt and a tank top, staying under the lights and never letting anyone see her out of line. She plays the part of a socialite well. She smiles at passerby and is generally pleasant to even the worst sort of people. During daylight, at least.

After all, it's a big city, and at night it belongs to her.

On this night, she crouches on a rooftop, her fearow perched on the ledge next to her. Traffic below is heavy, and she can hear the wail of sirens. She grips the brim of her hat, ignoring the billow of her skirt, and listens to the roar of the train and the hum of the radio tower and the electric energy that lights up Goldenrod City on a Saturday night.

"C'mon," she says to the bird, prepared to dive over the side-

"Going somewhere, are we?" She groans, turning in frustration to see a familiar face, a trained gun, a grim smirk. "Finally caught up to ya. I was wondering when you would start getting cocky…"

She snorts, lip curling in contempt. "You're one to talk,  _Officer_." He's got a gun, but he's not going to shoot. She controls this situation precisely because he thinks he does. "Where's the rest of your friends? You should know by now it takes more than you to catch me."

He scowls, messy hair gleaming under the hat. "What are you trying to accomplish? I didn't think you were one for gangs." He keeps inching closer, and she keeps inching closer to the edge. The fearow remains silent by her side.

The girl grimaces, sweeping flowing brown hair over her shoulder. "I'm not. Besides, you're one to talk." She pauses and then smirks. "Green Oak."

His hand tightens on the pistol while his other hand searches his belt for something that isn't there. "Names are off-limits," he growls. "You know that." She notes that he still isn't saying her name. It's for the best, she decides; after all, names have power.

A sudden gust of wind impacts the rooftop, sending the hat flying. Green watches it fly off into the city streets far below, then turns back to the girl. "Just tell me, and I'll let you go without any consequences."

_Liar._

"Sorry, but that's not going to happen!" Grinning widely, she falls backwards off the skyscraper, hair and skirt billowing around her. The fearow screeches and follows behind.

"Leaf!" he yells, running for the edge, but he already knows that she'll be just fine. He's been playing right into her hand without even realizing it. "…Dammit, not again." He needs to remember that honesty is not her style.

Too bad young officers must pay the price for incompetence.

...

...

_"When could you tell it was over?_  
When did you turn on me?  
I'd cry if I thought it would change your mind  
Cry for the girl I hoped you to be."

_"True Romance", She Wants Revenge_

He's stunning. He walks the floor of the club with a sly grin on his face and his hair slicked back, radiant. He doesn't have an identification badge or a pistol, but he needs neither to be recognizable or dangerous.

He's never been fond of guns, anyway. He prefers a much more elegant weapon.

He spots her at the bar. Hair down and curled into little spirals, she's a stunner in a red dress that dips to her lower back and winds around her legs like a snake. He wants to trace those lines backwards, with his hands and her legs and nothing in between…

He shakes his head. He can't let her heels and her hair and her devious smirk distract him.

He's here on business, after all.

He curls his hand around her waist and whispers, "Lyra. You shouldn't be here this late."

To her credit, Lyra turns calmly to him and replies, "Well. If it isn't Silver. And why not?" She's sipping a beer. She may be pretty, but she's unrefined, and her taste in clothes doesn't match her taste in venue. She always goes alone, too, if she can. What an odd girl. What a strange person to become entangled with.

Silver reaches up and touches her cheek, eyes oddly cold. "Because you're needed elsewhere." His eyebrows draw together, making a decision. Friend or foe? Love or hate? Argh, he shouldn't be here… he should have listened for once…

She's pitifully oblivious; his finger against her cheek could be a knife and she would stand there with her grin just as radiant. "Oh  _really_  now? And why am I needed… and by whom?" Lyra lays her hand across her thigh. It makes Silver the slightest bit uneasy, the way she's half girl and half woman, grown up in many ways and yet still a child in others.

"By me." He links his elbow with hers and leads her to the door. He feels as though he's dancing on the edge of a blade; he doesn't know what he should do.

Either way, whatever happens to her is his fault.

The streets of Goldenrod are dim at this hour. He closes his eyes as they slowly amble on down the road, streetlights like fireflies overhead.

Then he scowls and remembers that he's got a job to do, and his father won't be pleased at all if he screws this up.

Silver finds her hand and grips it tightly. "Lyra, I have something to talk to you about." They're almost to the north side of town. Warehouse district. A few cops around but for the most part completely devoid of activity.

She beams. What a little fool. "What's that?"

He takes her other hand as well, squeezing them in his. No doubt the action is uncomfortable for her, but she says nothing. "I know what you are. A liar. A double agent. A spy." He pauses to lick his lips while meeting her eyes, then tightens his grip. "No point in denying it; a friend of yours told us everything."

Even in the darkness, he can see panic in her eyes. "No! I don't… know anything…" She trails off as she thinks in dismay about everything that could have gone wrong. If she were truly naïve, she wouldn't be this afraid. If she were truly naïve, she wouldn't know what's going to happen next.

Two cops saunter out from behind the warehouses. Lyra struggles, but Silver's hands are strong enough to break her wrists if he wants. As she screeches and is dragged off to the prison (conveniently disguised as another warehouse), he glares at her back. Stupid girl. Stupid woman. Her fault he had to arrest her. Her fault he couldn't look away from her.

The clicking of a rifle behind him. Silver instantly drops a small sphere and ducks down as a creature appears next to him. A jet of water escapes the monster's mouth, hitting the intruder.

Silver smiles to himself as he slowly stands next to his feraligatr. No weapon in the world better than a pokemon, after all.

...

...

_"The promises we made were not enough_  
The prayers that we have prayed were like a drug  
The secrets that we sold were never known"

_"Hurricane", 30 Seconds to Mars_

He's tense. He already knows this was a bad idea, from the way Lyra screams for release and from the way Silver grins madly. This boy, this man, is insane, drunk on power, and there is no one to stop him.

No one except the one who he faces now.

As the jet of water hits him, Ethan drops his own weapon. He goes flying, the pressure flinging him into the aluminum wall of a factory. Sliding to the ground, he groans and forces himself onto his hands. The weapon hits the floor, as if in slow motion, and explodes into a flash of light and flame.

"Phlosion, hit it!"

The pokemon roars. The silence is broken, and Silver winces. All the time typhlosion needs to release a wall of fire. Ethan picks himself up and runs for cover; by the time the flames disappear, revealing the red-haired trainer and his pokemon, the boy is vanished. The two pokemon charge and begin wrestling, neither needing a command to act upon their pure loathing. Meanwhile, Silver walks around them and towards the spot where his prey vanished.

"Come out, and I won't kill you." Ethan can tell Silver is bluffing and continues hiding, continues digging in his pack for a knife, a lighter, anything he can use to defend himself.

No dice, he realizes with dismay. Abandoning his search, he crawls down a ventilation duct, making himself invisible. He can be tough in a fight, but Silver is no weakling, and chances are high that he's got better weaponry. To defeat this guy, he'll need to use his head.

And he'll need to do it fast, because he can hear his enemy crawling down the ventilation shaft behind him.

"You must think you're cool, huh? Real tough guy?" Ethan shouts insults over his shoulder, the words echoing around him. Silver doesn't answer, but he does pick up his speed. Minute by minute, the only sounds are the heavy breathing of the two boys and the roars and snarls and explosions from the pokemon outside.

Finally Silver rasps, "Give it up. You're not going to get out of here. Might as well give up and at least have a painless death." The chase has taken a toll on them both; they're both gasping for air, eagle-spread and motionless.

Eyes drooping, lungs gasping, Ethan chokes out a hoarse laugh. "There's a fire in here. Isn't there." His eyes are red and watering, and Silver doesn't sound particularly good either.

Funny, because Ethan's plan was never to outright defeat Silver. He'd always been the lure. And it was working.

Pity it was too late for that.

Shaking himself alert, he rolls over, turning himself around. Now that he realizes what's happening, he can smell the smoke, hear the crackling, taste the foul ashes. He tries to hurry, but every move becomes harder and harder as the smoke burns his lungs.

Silver has collapsed, face pressed to the aluminum. Ethan pauses, flummoxed. Leave him here, or bring him along? He's the prince of the empire. His death would be something to celebrate, perhaps. Ethan will have done his duty.

But Ethan won't, can't let him die by fire. Not even his worst enemy.

Groaning at the realization, Ethan digs one more time for his pack and latches himself haphazardly to Silver. Finding what he was looking for, he grunts, "Pidgeot…"

Everything is bright and hot as the ventilation shaft collapses under the weight, and they are falling, falling, soaring upward, the plumes of smoke burgeoning the flying types' wings as it crashes through a window then plummets to the ground.

The last thing Ethan sees is a shadowed figure standing over him, Silver's limp hand clutched tightly in his own.

...

...

_"Yes, you will hit a wall_  
But get back on your feet  
And you'll be stronger and smarter"

_"It's Amazing", Jem_

She's livid. You can see it on her face, from the way her lips pout and her teeth gnash and her hands fly to her hips. And yet she smiles, eyes hidden beneath her hood. She is the queen of passive aggressive, no need to shout.

"Ethan," she says. The two boys at her feet are eye-level with three-inch heels on black boots; leather pants grow upward. "I see you failed." The typhlosion curls at his master's side; behind her, a meganium thrashes Silver's monster. She pulls at the black leather of her outfit; the jacket is rather warm, but the pants are snug and comfortable.

Ethan coughs, soot on his face and jacket. "Yeah, yeah. But I'm alive, and he's ours. That counts for something, right?" The pleading in his eyes is pitiful, and the girl sighs. Holding out a hand, she pulls him to his feet and points wordlessly at Silver's limp figure. The boy hoists him over his shoulder and recalls his pokemon.

There is work to do.

The hideout is in the Underground, an infamous place, known for druggies and shootouts. The police raid weekly. Fortunately, the petty criminals that lurk around the base's entrance understand that their survival is dependent upon those within. They are scum according to the government, the lowest of life forms, but they are still real.

A couple of homeless men are asleep in front of the door, slumped over with haversacks in hand. A third man, seeing the lady and her two companions, shakes them awake, and the path is cleared. The girl punches in a code and turns the handle.

There is a second door beyond the first one. "Who is it?" a feminine voice asks. "And do you know the password?"

"It's Quartz," she replies. "I'm here with Hiro; mission failure, but we have Kamon with us." She smirks slightly, her eyes invisible in the half-light. "Evolve by day, match the sun's ray; evolve by night, glow like moonlight."

The heavy steel door slides open. Behind it, a brunette girl stands, unimposing and smiling. "Welcome back."

"Good to see you, Leaf," Kris replies briskly. She gestures to Ethan, who still has Silver draped over one shoulder. "They've been exposed to heavy smoke; we should treat them. And then Kotone needs a rescue mission."

Leaf says, "I'll get to it. I've been meaning to start something with the police, anyway…" She grins, exposing sharpened canines and a gap where a tooth is missing. "I owe them a bit of repayment."

Kris nods, then turns to Ethan, who is seated on a couch. Silver, laying next to him, moans, moving slightly. She walks across the room, boots clicking against the floor, and puts a wet cloth on his forehead. "Do you know where you are?" she asks. "You are in our headquarters. You aren't going to be harmed, but you aren't allowed to leave."

Silver grunts, opening his eyes. It is clear that speaking is too painful at the moment.

"Not a prisoner so much as a guest…" Kris muses, taking off her jacket and revealing her tank top and blue hair. "You've been duped. Your father is not the benevolent man he claims to be."

"Wha-"

Silver starts to speak, but Ethan tiredly clamps a hand over his mouth. Grinning, he says, "Rest your jaws, mate. Kris ain't gonna let you speak your piece until she's had her say."

Kris silences Ethan with a look. "I aim to show you exactly how Giovanni has lied to you and used you. It's so painfully obvious to those of us on the outside, how naïve you are about his intentions." She heads toward the kitchenette. "Not that you'll be resisting, but your pokemon are locked somewhere safe. We don't need anyone accessing them."

Silver weakly calls out, "You were trying to assassinate me, weren't you?"

She doesn't turn. Coy smile, hands folded neatly. "You were lucky somehow. Normally my weapons-" she shoots a glance at Ethan "-don't miss."

...

...

_"And I never wanted anything from you_  
Except everything you had  
And what was left after that, too."

_"Dog Days are Over", Florence and the Machine_

She's shivering. It's cold and dark, and the stone beneath her feels grimy to the touch. She feels so out of place, in her nice dress and curled hair.

But she doesn't cry. She's tougher than that.

They took all her jewelry and shoes at the door. The police, with their grabby hands and greedy eyes, weren't particularly concerned about her wellbeing. She runs her finger along a cut on her ankle, where one of them sliced through the strap on one of her heels. She then tenderly touches her wrist, which is swollen and probably bruised. Fortunately, the guards had enough decency not to search her person in more depth. Her pokeballs remained hidden.

She hears voices in the hallway. Touching the wall, she follows it until she touches metal bars. There are voices and footsteps, and something that sounds like the panting of a growlithe. She slinks to the floor and presses her ear through the grate.

"…we brought in Silver's spy, but he never followed behind…" Snatches of conversation echo in the hallway. All is silent, but other prisoners shuffle silently in their cells. She wonders how many there are.

She wonders how many are innocent. Knowing the government, probably all of them.

"…said that her name was Kotone, right?"

"That's her spy name. No one knows what she really goes by…"

She smiles wryly. Her identity; the one thing she had left. Her identity and her pokemon. That was all she needed…

"Lyra."

She spins on the spot. "Who's there?" she forces out, gritting her teeth and clenching her fists. "Who are you?"

A hoarse chuckle. The voice is raspy and dehydrated; she can't see the face, but his voice sounds weak, emaciated. "I don't have a name anymore. They've all forgotten it. But I've heard yours, many times." He extends a thin arm out of the shadows. Pale, hollow skin, shaking fingers. "Tell me. Are you the hero they claim you are? They say that you're going to tear this place apart from the inside out."

She backs away, feeling the bars against her spine. "They… they say that about me?"

"They speak of Kris and Lyra. Or rather, Quartz and Kotone. And Leaf, but I've known about her for a long time. Quartz, the warrior heroine whose fists and heart are harder than diamond. And Kotone, the temptress whose talent and charm will ruin her enemies without a single blow." A pause. "Of course, they're all poets, all these homeless. Of course you're going to knock this place down with weapons."

"For someone with a voice as weak as yours, you sure talk a lot," she commented snidely. "…you never did tell me your name."

He heaves a sigh; she imagines a long-limbed boy, stretched out lazily like a cat. "They call me Red."

After that, Lyra spends two weeks in the cell with Red. He teaches her how to fight with more than Pokemon; both have elbows like knives and fists like bullets. And she teaches him how to carry a tune. Singing exhausts him, but he can whistle well. The other prisoners sometimes sing along, too; it's relaxing and refreshing.

On the last day, Red wakes up early and accepts the breakfast that has been slid under the cell door. "Wake up. Today's the day."

"The day for what?" Lyra asks groggily, rolling over on the straw mattress. Her dress is no longer clean and elaborate; she has torn off the bottom half of the skirt and wrapped it around her shoulders like a shawl. She automatically reaches for her thigh, feeling the pokeballs tied tight against her flesh.

"The day we leave."

She sits up straight, hitting her head on the ceiling. "…are you sure?"

"Yes. I'd imagine there's still a war going on out there…"

Before he can continue, an explosion shakes the area, knocking Red over. Lyra climbs hastily down from her bunk bed, grabbing the bars and trying to see out of the cell. The roof is cracked, letting a bit of sunlight through. She is thrown backwards with a second blast.

Red pulls her to her feet. "Break us out of here." She nods, then feels along her thigh for a pokeball. It falls.

In the burst of light and sound that follows, neither can quite tell what is happening. There are yells, running feet and fighting people. Pokemon snarling and latching onto each other by the maw. Lyra's dragonaire twists through the bars, pulling them out of the way until she and Red can simply walk through the space that's left behind. "Good," she mutters, recalling the monster.

But then, an impact on her side. She falls, a figure above her with arms crossed.

She never cries. But when she realizes that the one standing over her is the governor's kid, she wants to.

...

...

_"Can you see that I am needing_   
_Begging for so much more_   
_Than you could ever give"_

_"Muscle Museum (Soulwax Remix)", Muse_

He's unconscious. They find him on the floor, slumped against the wall and bleeding from the head. A pistol lays on the floor nearby, fallen from his hand.

After Red checks his pulse, however, no one gives him the time of day. They're a bit busy. Silver is pulling an baffled Lyra to her feet; Kris is kicking one of the guards in the chest, heeled boots still intact; Leaf is demolishing the wall between two of the cells with the help of her golem.

Ethan, running past, tosses Red's belt to him, the pokemon still attached. "Figured we might be seeing you here, mate!" he yells, then tumbles back into battle, hollering for his typhlosion to knock over an enemy.

Red looks down at his belt, smiling slightly. It's been… entirely too long since he'd seen them last. He wants to call them out, greet them by name, battle with them and wrestle with them and fall asleep next to them. It'll be just like old times. Him and Leaf and…

But what is he supposed to do about Green?

And then he frowns. There's one missing here. Venusaur, charizard, blastoise, snorlax, espeon… Wait. That makes sense.

He thinks back… it's been so long, but he remembers running through the city with pikachu. Dodging around corners and telling the pokemon to shock the bullets out of the air. Fighting tooth and nail with three officers. Falling, falling…

And then the endless darkness, the deep silence. The starvation, the bars, the smells and echoing footsteps.

Green stirs, finally, moaning and rubbing his head. Red stands and stares at him, absentmindedly running his fingers along the buttons on the five pokeballs. Green, his oldest friend. Green, the one who had betrayed him and Leaf.

Speak of the devil.

She stalks over to him, flouncing around like a little girl in a park. She doesn't bother with courtesies; she kneels next to him, and, smiling all the while, smacks him across the face, hard.

"…I deserved that."

"You sure did, you sellout!" She stands back up, and Red knows that Leaf had been merciful. She is capable of much more than that….

"Where are the pokemon?" Red asks, thinking about his pikachu, as well as Green's umbreon and rhydon and arcanine and all the rest. Team Rocket wouldn't have let him keep his powerhouses.

He sighs and hangs his head. "Gone, all gone. They took them all." Green reaches into his vest and fumbles around for a key. "Your pikachu is in my office; you can get it." He slides even further onto the floor. A broken rag doll.

Red knows what he wants, more than any of the others. But Red won't grant him that.

"Get up," he says sharply, surprising himself. Green doesn't move, except to open his eyes and stare defiantly, asking why. "Get up. You aren't going anywhere. You betrayed us… you're not going to do that again." He hesitates. "I know you better than that."

Green licks his split lip, where the tiniest droplet of blood has formed. "If you knew me so well," he began slowly, "then why didn't you guess my betrayal in the first place."

"…because you were tricked. And so was I." The others are all standing around, the task nearly complete. Kris fumes slightly; if she had her way, then Green would get his wish. "Let's fix this thing."

...

...

_"I don't care what you believe_  
As long as you are in my heart  
You're just as real as me  
Maybe even more"

_"This Is Not The End", The Bravery_

He's grinning. It's the first grin in a long time, but his smile is wide and his eyes are bright as he enthusiastically slurps up his mug of hot chocolate.

"Dude, could you  _be_  any louder?" Ethan says from across the room, and Silver snorts. Kris flicks Ethan on the ear, and Silver pouts. Red doesn't really care; the years of malnutrition are slowly repaired with each meal.

Some things aren't repaired so easily.

"Is Green coming with us?" asks Leaf, walking into the room carrying a couple of bulletproof vests. She sounds professional, as though she's taking a party count. Y'know, so she knows how many bodybags to bring along or something. But there's a twinge underneath, a slight change in her tone of voice that Red alone can detect.

"I'll go check," he says, stepping down from the stool. Everyone is moving quickly; many people recognize the former Champion, but many more don't even know who he is. He has decided that this is a good thing; the newer members of the Underground don't need to know about a redeemed traitor and a prisoner of war with a few too many scars.

Green has been sharing a room with Lyra, and the girl is walking out of the bathroom they share, wearing the tattered dress from the cell. "Isn't that a little less protective than you need…?" After all, it's a  _dress_.

But she smiles, tying her hair up using the part she'd torn off. "I want them to remember me," she replies. "I'm not just a pretty face." She laughs as she straps a cord with six pokeballs on it. He recalls the dragonaire and nods, letting her pass. She will fulfill the legends. She will be the dragon lady; in fact, she already is.

And there is Green, alone.

"…why are you here?" he asks, bitterness in his voice. It's the first time they've seen each other since the breakout, and Green looks worse for wear; he's propped up on three pillows, but he looks ill. Very ill.

Red lies. "I came to check on you," he says. "You don't look well…"

"I'm not. Dumbshit." Silence. "You guys aren't coming back, are you?"

Red almost confirms Green's statement, but then shakes his head obstinately. There's more silence as Green watches his oldest friend and rival try to deny the inevitable.

"You got a helluva lot of shit to fight your way through, you know. If you try to take on the government building."

"I know. Kris mapped it out, Silver confirmed it. We have… a plan…"

Green coughs. He's oddly pale, as though he had swallowed something like poison. "Well. I know you guys are too tough to go out, but. If you gotta. Take them with you." He shakes his head. "C'mere, I want to show you something."

Red walks over to the bed, his breath coming rapidly and his eyebrows wrinkling. He tried to swallow but couldn't. "What's up?"

Green pulls up his shirt the slightest bit, revealing a large selection of scars on his stomach.

"This is what they'll do to you – worse – if you're caught. They won't take you out easily. You know how Giovanni is." He closes his eyes. "He never gave me a choice."

Red is not one for tears, but he feels a slight pain in the corners of his eyes. Looking at Green's scars makes his own ache. "I know. I remember." He hesitates, then leans in to hug Green. "Take care of yourself. No matter what happens."

When he walks back into the main room, pulling on his fingerless gloves, his gaze is set. "Let's do this," he says, staring around at the group. Kris in her black leather, Ethan and Silver dressed like cops, Lyra and Leaf looking pretty and unassuming. Each has a code name; something he won't need.

No matter what happens, this is not the end.


End file.
